Tides And Troubles Wait For None - Poem by Aniruddha Pathak
Kneeling under the vault of open sky,
I bent down trying to reach the wet sand,
A fragment of swept-ashore shell in hand,
And wrote upon a patch nigh wind-swept dry—
Whatso that came cascading in high gear,
And walked away ne’er once to turn, look back
At weary words wilting my mental deck,
I knew the tide was closing in to clear.
There followed truth in all its driving force:
Cathartic quite is penning down one’s pain,
And cure, to every trouble on the course,
Like rain ending a lingering hot reign!
In every tide its counter’s sure espied,
A waxing tide a waning one doth hide.
- Sonnets | 07.07.14 |
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